Pilgrimage Day 7

Today was a lot more productive than yesterday, mostly because there was nowhere to go but up! We were back together again in our little pilgrimage group for a trip to the House of `Abbud in Akka, the place where Bahá'u'lláh and His family were moved after they were allowed to move out of the Most Great Prison.

Photos of the house don't really do it justice. It's a very large structure, and it was originally split in two. One half belonged to one man and the other half to his uncle (who constructed the whole thing). Bahá'u'lláh and His family originally lived in the smaller half of the house. Although the uncle was suspicious of them in the beginning, he eventually warmed to them. When he determined that the only reason `Abdu'l-Bahá was not marrying the woman he was betrothed to who had come from Persia, the uncle knocked out a portion of the partition separating the two halves of the home and gave one large room to `Abdu'l-Bahá and his wife-to-be so that they could marry.

The house has been restored, of course. The walls are bright white with the characteristic "Bahjí Blue" windows that most of our properties have. There's something I really love about open-air houses. It's one reason I loved the Sabet's home in Dar es Salaam so much - the windows were always open and a breeze was always coming from the Indian Ocean. At the House of `Abbud, the windows were always open and a breeze was always coming from the Mediterranean.

When we returned I visited the grave of Ruhiyyih Khanum, the wife of Shoghi Effendi, Guardian of the Faith. This was at the top of my list because I've always admired her tenacity and wished on more than one occasion that I could have even a small part of it.

For dinner, I decided to actually go out and treat myself. You can only take so many hummus & lunch meat sandwiches on pita bread before you go out of your mind. In fact, I think I have eaten a lifetime's worth of hummus for a Westerner while I've been here. Hummus in the morning, hummus in the afternoon, hummus in the evening, hummus delivered intravenously while you're sleeping...

The restaurant I went to is called Ramsis (as in the Egyptian pharaoh, although we spell it Ramses). Apparently it was the favorite of one of the Hands of the Cause of God, so I figured it should be all right for me, too. I ordered the lamb kebab. I just expected a plate of kebab to be brought to me but soon enough the waiter showed up with a massive Arab salad! Then the kebab came. All this for something like $13.00 (including a soda & Arab coffee).

In the evening, we celebrated the Declaration of the Bab. It's ordinarily held in May but at the Baha'i World Centre all holy days which originally occurred before 1863 are celebrated on the lunar calendar, which puts the day of celebration roughly 11 days before when everyone else is celebrating. I trust there's a reason for this but it was baffling enough to me without someone trying to explain it. I just showed up!

It was held in the same place as the Ninth Day of Ridvan celebration and followed the same format although it was substantially longer. I walked back to the guesthouse following the circumambulation and called it a night!

Leia Mais…

Pilgrimage Day 6

Today was Independence Day. Either there is some kind of holiday or holy day every other day in this country or I just happened to hit the right season. Apparently the standard way to celebrate an independence day anywhere in the world is with fireworks. I don't know if people are following our lead or the fireworks industry has a powerful international lobby, but either way you'd think of all places Israel might tone down the whole "Let's celebrate with explosives!" thing. But much like your earlier assumption that the grocery store would be open on Saturday or Sunday or before 4:00 PM, you'd be wrong. 

Oh yes indeed, Israelis love fireworks. They love them so much that I've been here on two different celebratory occasions when they've set them off. The first time they set them off they were lighting firecrackers, which to the untrained ear sounds just like gunfire. The second time was last night for Independence Day. This was a big municipal ordeal. "Where did the city gather to watch them?" you ask. Why, right under my room, of course! Oh yes, hundreds of people were packed onto Ben Gurion Avenue to watch the fireworks. The explosive thud of the first three fireworks had me convinced we were under artillery attack from Lebanon or Syria. I didn't hear anyone screaming or sirens going off, so I poked my head out the window and saw the sky light up with the fourth one.

I loaded up on cold medicine in order to get some sleep, which turned out to be a mistake. Because of the holy day, our pilgrimage was suspended, and we had the day to ourselves. I'd planned to go see some of the other sites not covered by our tour but then again I plan for a lot of things: I ended up sleeping until 12:00 noon. When I woke up I had lunch, took a shower and then took a taxi up to the Pilgrim Reception Center (the buses were running very slow because of Independence Day). I'd intended to have lunch with James & Annette, but we worked out dinner plans instead.

Back down the mountain, I took it easy until it was time to head back up for the Ninth Day of Ridvan observance. It was held in the gardens in front of the Haifa Pilgrim House next to the Shrine of the Bab. One of the members of the Universal House of Justice delivered a small address on the occasion and then nine readings were given in three languages: Arabic, English and Persian. My favorite was from Selections from the Writings of `Abdu'l-Baha:

O ye beloved of the Lord! This day is the day of union, the day of the ingathering of all mankind. ‘Verily God loveth those who, as though they were a solid wall, do battle for His Cause in serried lines!’ Note that He saith ‘in serried lines’—meaning crowded and pressed together, one locked to the next, each supporting his fellows. To do battle, as stated in the sacred verse, doth not, in this greatest of all dispensations, mean to go forth with sword and spear, with lance and piercing arrow—but rather weaponed with pure intent, with righteous motives, with counsels helpful and effective, with godly attributes, with deeds pleasing to the Almighty, with the qualities of heaven. It signifieth education for all mankind, guidance for all men, the spreading far and wide of the sweet savours of the spirit, the promulgation of God’s proofs, the setting forth of arguments conclusive and divine, the doing of charitable deeds.

Whensoever holy souls, drawing on the powers of heaven, shall arise with such qualities of the spirit, and march in unison, rank on rank, every one of those souls will be even as one thousand, and the surging waves of that mighty ocean will be even as the battalions of the Concourse on high. What a blessing that will be—when all shall come together, even as once separate torrents, rivers and streams, running brooks and single drops, when collected together in one place will form a mighty sea. And to such a degree will the inherent unity of all prevail, that the traditions, rules, customs and distinctions in the fanciful life of these populations will be effaced and vanish away like isolated drops, once the great sea of oneness doth leap and surge and roll.

After the readings were concluded, the Tablets of Visitation - two portions of the Writings specifically for special holy days and use at the Shrines - were recited. Then we were led in circumambulating the Shrine of the Bab by the members of the Universal House of Justice and their spouses. We did so in absolute silence. The only thing you could hear was the sound of footsteps crunching on the broken tiles that made up the path below our feet, the wind blowing through the palm trees and the birds singing.

I think I enjoyed the silence most of all but I was also touched by the faces I passed when circumambulating the Shrine. I passed Caucasian-Americans and African-Americans holding hands, the children of an Ethiopian wife and Danish husband, a Korean man and his Persian wife, a Canadian boy and his new friend from India... It was truly a wonder to see so many people from so many different places walking together without so much as a single trace of enmity or prejudice. They believe one and all that no matter where they're from - Kolkata or Kampala, Vancouver or Vienna, Santiago or Sydney - that we all belong to one human family.

After the holy day celebration, I went with James & Annette by sherut to the top of Mt. Carmel for the first time. We had dinner at a nice little restaurant where I learned about a new kind of cheese - halumi. It has a firm texture and it's generally fried. We all shared a halumi salad, a pizza and some kind of delicious cake. 

When we finished dinner, we took a walk along the Louis Promenade which gives you breathtaking views of Haifa and the bay (you can even see Lebanon!). They used one of the perks of being a World Centre employee - a key to most of the gates of Baha'i properties - to take us down the upper terraces on the way back to my guesthouse. We were the only ones there, and it was so quiet and peaceful in the gardens- no fireworks at all!

Leia Mais…

Pilgrimage Days 4 & 5

It's all I can do to keep my eyes open long enough to type this up. The past two days have been exhausting and filled with moments of not taking it easy, as I should be. I'm not a medical doctor but I like to think over the years I've received a lot of wisdom from my mother's degree in Everythingology (a degree open only to mothers) and through my own personal experience. So my diagnosis is that I have either a mix of a head cold and allergies which got more powerful as I made the journey over here, or I have swine flu. Or maybe I've just been watching too much Al Jazeera on that last one.

Yesterday we assembled at the Pilgrim Reception Center (PRC) in the morning to leave for Bahji. Every set of pilgrims is divided into several groups of roughly 30 people, including groups for different languages (Persian, French, Spanish, etc.). Thankfully our group, "G," doesn't leave until the latest time for most of the visits. I think the person who checked me in during registration could tell I'm not a morning person. God bless her, truly, because I really want to visit these places but the good Lord knows I cannot get myself out of bed before 7:00 AM no matter what time zone I'm in. 

Bahji is the home of Baha'u'llah and his followers for the latter years of His life. It's located just outside the city of Akka. The complex contains the Shrine of Baha'u'llah, the Qiblih of the Baha'i Faith (the point to which we orient ourselves when praying); a visitor's center; gardens and the Mansion of Bahji, the home Baha'u'llah lived in. The Shrine itself contains the remains of Baha'u'llah.

I have to say I didn't feel like I was appropriately moved. We approached the Shrine with two other groups. Outside, we removed our shoes and then went inside where someone read the Tablet of Visitation, a portion of the Writings which is read at the Shrines of Baha'u'llah and the Bab. Thereafter we were left to our own prayers either in the main room or the small rooms off to the side. I dismissed myself to one of those rooms and prayed for myself and others. There were Persian women throwing themselves on the ground weeping and prostrating themselves like we were in mosque together. It was a very odd scene for me, and it gave me an uneasy feeling. Maybe it was my Western sensibilities flaring up, but I didn't feel "it" as much as they were. I felt calm and detached but I wasn't moved to prostrate on the floor or kneel before the threshold to the room that contained Baha'u'llah's remains.

That isn't to say I didn't feel anything during my visit to the Shrine. I did feel I had the opportunity to unburden myself of the things I seem to always carry around with me. I generate a lot of baggage for myself, and it was nice to let go of some things. There is a particular issue that, blissfully, I haven't thought about since that point up until writing this now. And even now it doesn't feel like it's as all-consuming as it was before. It's something that will be dealt with in its own good time.

By contrast, I felt my time walking in the gardens was more spiritually productive. They are all lovingly cared for and meticulously cared for by the staff of the Baha'i World Centre and their hard work shows. You can readily identify Baha'i properties, even those that are unmarked, in Haifa and Akka by the state of their condition and the surrounding grounds. In the gardens, you're disturbed only by the sound of your own footfalls and nature - the wind blowing through the trees, birds singing, bees buzzing. I didn't have a claustrophobic feeling of being in a small building with a number of other people. I didn't have to worry about other people keeping their eyes on me, watching to see if I did something out of line. So I simply enjoyed my time in the gardens, freeing my mind of having to think about anything at all. 

Prayer has never been easy for me. As a child I was mercifully never forced to go to church, read the Bible or be subjected to a preacher and church society. I attended schools which focused on the sciences (and arts to a lesser extent). My upbringing was decidedly secular, a sharp contrast to most of my classmates. I never developed the habits or rituals of prayer, only stopping to pray if I wanted something. I believed in God as much as the next person but religion was neither at the forefront of my life nor did it really play any significant part.

Now the coin's been flipped, and I often find it difficult to settle down and pray as I should or have the appropriate attitude of reverence. I balk at the concept of needing to be dressed up to go to the House of Worship in Wilmette, the thought of bowing down in front of anything makes me squirm and the worshipful, kow-towing attitude with which institution members are treated leaves me with a slimy feeling. I am far more comfortable doing or at least feeling as if I'm doing something. I will sing a prayer over saying it quietly, I will tutor a study circle over hosting a devotional meeting, I will walk in the gardens of Bahji rather than prostrate before the Shrine. I comfort myself with the thought that we are defined by our deeds and not our words, that my deeds make up for my lack of prayed words, but there's still something somewhere in the back of my mind that insists maybe I'm just not devout enough or I just don't believe enough.

After Bahji, we returned to the Arc to meet the members of the Universal House of Justice. I wasn't clear whether we were meeting with the institution or its members. I assumed it was the institution first and then its constituent members afterward. Following a small welcoming address by one of its members, the members of the House came and walked through the rows to greet each one of us. Working at the Baha'i National Center has heightened my perception of how people treat members of high-ranking institutions within the Faith. I will admit the first time I met the Secretary-General of our National Spiritual Assembly I had a reaction of awe. I felt disgusted with myself afterward because our obedience and deference is to the institution, not it's members. Separate they are merely men and women, and I keep this in mind at all times - "he's just a man, like me or anyone else."

When I met each of the House members, I felt I kept the appropriate attitude. It was nice to meet them but I wasn't tripping over myself or trudging up obscure facts to try to impress them. They are all nice people who have rendered invaluable service to the Faith, but they are just men when they're coming around shaking our hands.

The evening featured a talk by Counsellor Stephen Birkland of the International Teaching Centre, but I was in my room resting. I seem to have just enough energy to make it through the day before collapsing at night. When I first returned back to the guesthouse, I had to ask the owner to use the telephone. He invited me into his home and I had coffee and cake with him and his wife. I listened to him tell stories about a few of his more difficult guests (including 30 Baha'is from the Congo - personal experience allowed me to relate to what a nightmare this must have been!), and I shared about life in Chicago and Africa.

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Today I went to Akka with 7 Persian friends - a family of two sons, one daughter, a mother and father from Vancouver and a mother and daughter from Shanghai and Adelaide respectively - and an American Baha'i from Oregon. They invited me along when I ate lunch with them yesterday, and I was very grateful for it because I didn't have a clue how I was going to arrange transportation to Akka on my own. They picked me up from my guesthouse and I learned that the American Baha'i was "Ryan." Oiy - Ryan & Bryan!

We were dropped at the Land Gate, the only way in and out of Akka in ancient (and not so ancient) times. It's very cleverly designed in an L-shape with a massive door. The walls are very thick, and it's easy to see why Crusaders, Ottomans and French alike had such a terrible time taking the city (or not taking it in some cases). We saw a number of the places associated with the stay of `Abdu'l-Baha and Baha'u'llah in the prison city, including the Sea Gate and the caravanserai where they and a number of Baha'is stayed. Lunch was at a local shwarma shop (delicious).

We did a lot of wandering around. Forgive me but I'm too exhausted to give an exhausting account of the day in Akka. It was one of the best days for me so far, just from fulfilling the dream of visiting such an ancient and important city, let alone seeing the holy sites.

Tomorrow is the Ninth Day of Ridvan celebration. The actual observance is held at 4:00 PM. I'll be having lunch with James & Annette, two friends from Hot Springs serving here, but the rest of the day is free. Assuming I'm in good health and spirits, I'll probably see some of the sights not covered in our guided tour, like the Monument Gardens, the Temple Land and the Baha'i Cemetary.

Leia Mais…

Pilgrimage Day 3

"Since apparently everything in America is going into the toilet except the public's faith in Barack Obama, it seems that the way to fix everything in America is to entrust it to Barack Obama."

- Derek Thompson, The Atlantic

I am halfway up this mountain. At least, God help me, I hope this is halfway up. Whatever fool part of my brain thought it was a good idea to walk to the Pilgrim Reception Centre (PRC) was surely murdered by the rest of me a few blocks back. But once you get up this thing to a certain point you're kind of locked into it, so I will soon march onward again.

Whatever cold I had on the way over here has developed into some sort of full blown infection. I haven't been able to find a pharmacy yet, but surely someone at the PRC will be able to direct me to one. I can't really hear very well out of one ear and it hurts, which leads me to believe I have some kind of ear infection. I can't breathe out of either nostril since they've been taken over by mucous (that word is so disgusting). Hopefully I can self-medicate and be fine...otherwise walking up this mountain is sure to kill it.

A lady just passed me going up the mountain in high heels. How embarrassing.

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Okay, what's more embarrassing is that when I stopped to write that, I was sitting right next to the Pilgrim Reception Centre, like 1/4 block from it. It was the next building over. So all that huffing and puffing was not in vain! I conquered the mountain! Or...at least I conquered it as far as I needed to conquer it. What's the sense of climbing all the way up a mountain when you only need to go halfway? Despite how "short" the walk was, I think I'll take the bus next time. And, likely, always.

I registered myself at the PRC, bought my health insurance and had a cup of tea. What immediately surprised me was that nearly everyone here is with someone. I was the only person that was alone, which really just sort of magnifies the feeling. I'm sure I will meet many people, especially in my group, but it still feels a little awkward to be by yourself. And of course as I'm typing this paragraph, another pilgrim comes into the common room of my guesthouse and introduces herself. We're everywhere! So, scratch that whole being alone business.

With the help of Andrew, the owner of the guesthouse, I managed to find a pharmacy. They gave me some over-the-counter medication for congestion and allergies, but apparently I will need a prescription or something of the sort for my ear problem. I'm beginning to wonder now if it isn't just stopped up. This happened once before and the doctor just flushed it with a saline solution, so I'll visit the clinic tomorrow and see if they can help me out. In the meantime, I'll just hear out of one ear.

Most of the rest of the morning and afternoon, I've been wandering around Haifa (read: lost). I've been trying to find a supermarket, really. I swear, things are closed here so much it's not even funny. If it's not Shabbat, then it's Sunday. If it's not Shabbat or Sunday then it's some kind of holy day. Frankly, I'm beginning to wonder if there's ever one day of consistent, uninterrupted commerce. All that aside, walking around has at least given me some exercise. It's nice, sunny and warm as opposed to Chicago's messy, cloudy, cold, rainy/snowy.

Eventually I ducked into a restaurant on Allenby. I keep hearing about these mythical shwarma/falafel shops with cheap food but I've yet to find one. I'd hoped this was one. They didn't have shwarma or falafel, but the owner asked me to take a seat and look at the menu. I ordered a Coke and the "hummus with meat" without asking or even wondering what kind of "meat" it was going to be. It only takes one question about the wrong thing in Africa to teach you to just eat what's put in front of you and not worry about it. So moments later a GIANT plate of hummus and meat was delivered to me along with a plate of pickle, olives, onion, tomato, peppers and some kind of purple thing and pita bread. It was a little expensive but I have to keep reminding myself I'm in a developed and not developing country.

Even with directions from Andrew, I still couldn't find the supermarket. I swear these things phase in and out of existence based on my positioning. There is one nearby that I know but it doesn't open until 4:00. What kind of store doesn't open until 4:00, I don't know, but apparently this is one of them. I suppose it's some kind of holy day. Or Shabbat. Or Sunday. or maybe, somehow, all three.

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Okay, all that movement earlier was a huge mistake. I practically collapsed when I came back to the hotel to rest. I took a small nap and when I woke up, everything was worse. I took more medicine but I knew I was in no shape to go back to the Pilgrim Reception Centre for orientation. I'm going to go early in the morning with the hope that someone can give me a condensed version of the orientation, otherwise I'm sure I'll end up being lost the whole time. 

So I shuffled around the room most of the afternoon, lamenting my condition and feeling sorry for myself (what else should I do?). I eventually got a little more sleep and felt a little better when I woke up. Out of necessity I had to go to the grocery store, which had finally opened. I have some pita bread, lunch meats, olives, apples and hummus for sandwiches, chips (or crisps, whichever you prefer) and sugar for tea.

This evening I have been catching up with the son of the family I lived with in Tanzania. The older I get the worse I am at keeping in touch with people, so it was very nice to touch base with him at the most unlikely of times in the most unlikely of places. 

With a sandwich in my tummy and some cold medicine doing its work, Insha'Allah I will be able to fall asleep and wake up feeling like a brand new person!

Leia Mais…

Pilgrimage Day 2

Right now it's karaoke night at the little bar/club across the street from my guesthouse here in the German Colony in Haifa. Some drunk man just wrapped up a rendition of Patsy Cline's "Crazy." I'll tell you what's crazy: it's me for staying here. Let this be a lesson learned - you get what you pay for. When planning a trip abroad, you should be groaning from the expense of accommodation instead of jubilant at the deal you think you're getting.

I left Chicago on Thursday evening feeling the least prepared I've ever felt before going abroad. I left half my pilgrimage information at home, and I'm sure I've forgotten something critically important and I just haven't discovered it, yet. The good news is the plane ride allowed me time to catch up on the few assignments that I still had due. I'm finished with everything except revising a draft and finishing a reflection essay.

When I was getting on board in Chicago, I fell in line behind this lady. I assumed she was by herself but when we got to the gate, she turned around and told me to hurry up. I balked at her and she gasped. "Why, you're not my husband at all!" she said in this very dignified British accent. "A bit young for you, isn't he?" the airline official at the gate asked. "Don't get cheeky," the lady said, snapping her fingers at her husband behind me. "Come on, then."

On the flight from London to Tel Aviv, there were a lot of incorrigible people onboard. I felt bad for the flight attendants. First this man insisted on holding his guitar because it wouldn't fit in the overhead. If you can't hold a purse in your lap then obviously you can't hold a guitar. The flight attendant was going to put it in the closet in first-class for him, but he refused! She tried to take it from him, but he tugged it back from her. Then she started getting pissed, so finally he let go with a begrudging, "You take good care of it," as if it were a child he'd never see again. Another man had his blanket over his seatbelt and refused to show it to the flight attendant during turbulence. Eventually she just reached over and snatched his blanket away from him!

There's been a lot of hullabaloo about the new Terminal 5 built by British Airways at London's Heathrow airport. This was my first time going through it, and I hated it. I had 1 1/2 hours to make my transfer, and it took me slightly more than an hour to get through security. Yes, security. For what, I have no idea. First of all, our 777 didn't even pull up to a gate. It just sat out on the tarmac and we were bused to the terminal. Then we were ushered upstairs and made to wait in line before going through a checkpoint where we had our passports inspected and liquids confiscated. 

Then it was on to actual security. I have absolutely no idea what dangerous things they expected us to pick up between our plane and the terminal. We went through all the things we went through in the U.S. - take off your shoes, take out your laptop, etc., etc. Lucky me, my flight was departing from a terminal where I had to get on another bus and be shuttled to my plane.

Tel Aviv was thankfully easy. The passport control agent either didn't care or didn't hear me when I asked not to have my passport stamped, so I'll have to get a new passport if I intend to travel to an Arab country. They pulled me aside after immigration and a guy asked me a few questions: "Where are you going?", "Why?", "Where are you staying?", and "Do you have your letter from the Baha'i Center?". I snagged some shekels from the ATM and boarded a sherut for Haifa. I had to wait an hour for it to fill up, but eventually we were on our way.

Granted it was a cloudy day, but Israel seems pretty ugly to me. I guess there's a certain appeal to this scruffy Mediterranean look but the architecture, particularly in Tel Aviv, was extremely uninventive: one cement block after another! Haifa is considerably better but it's still sort of ugly once you look beyond the very touristy areas.

I'm staying in the German Colony, which was settled by a bunch of Germans looking for the return of Christ (somehow they missed the Baha'is the whole time they were here, sheesh). It's sense been rehabilitated and seems to be (unbeknownst to me ahead of time) a center of Haifa nightlife. There are a number of good restaurants around but my visits will be few and far between thanks to a budget.

Overnight I fought with the music from the club and my own jet lag, only getting a few hours of sleep. I ended up actually sleeping solidly from 8:00 AM - 2:00 PM. I went out and bought a few groceries so I could eat in my room and then went to get adventurous! I thought of trying to hoof it up the terraces but they seemed to be closed, so I followed signs to "Baha'i Center" and ended up getting lost. It was a health walk nonetheless, although I think Mt. Carmel will end up killing me before I leave.

Here are some little bits about Israel:

1.) Learn Hebrew. If you don't, expect to always be on the wrong bus, in the wrong restaurant and/or eating the wrong food, walking down the wrong street or otherwise doing/saying something wrong.

2.) There are approximately 3 stray cats and 2.3 children for every 1 adult Israeli. If you doubt this statistic, check the nearest dumpster or sidewalk, respectively.

3.) Any car driven by a person under 30 must be small, contain at least one person with over-large sunglasses on, have the top down and be blasting the latest in bad Middle Eastern techno pop.

4.) Hummus will be included with all meals, even if they have to somehow slip it into your drink. Deal with it.

5.) Israeli/Palestinian men might have us Westerners beat with their suave Mediterranean looks, but they don't help themselves with their dress, hair products, cologne and attitude.

6.) When thinking of taking the bus, stop and reassess the situation. Can I walk there? Do I have enough shekels to just take a taxi? If the answer to both is "no," look for a bus sign. One side will be in English, but this side will also be facing the other way and be half-blocked by another sign, the top of the bus stop, a sticker or any and everything else. Deploy a high-tech GPS beacon before getting on the bus so that you can safely track your way back.

7.) Never plan anything for Saturday. Everything is closed, my friend.

Leia Mais…